He closed the door behind him quickly. The room was warm. He didn’t want to let in the chill. It was very quiet, with the single exception of the faucet in the bathroom running. Ivan was awake. The room had been neatly kept. Only one of the two double beds was slightly askew from Ivan’s nap. He hadn’t straightened it, but his case was open.

A low hum came from the bathroom.

Alexei’s blood chilled. Ivan only hummed after a job, one he particularly loved. He only hummed after he’d drawn blood.

With reluctant hands, he pushed open the bathroom door.

“Watch it,” Ivan said. A wide grin was on his face as he washed blood off his skin. His shirt was off, showing his chest and its intricate tattoos. “Careful where you walk. I don’t want to get blood everywhere.”

Alexei’s stomach rolled. In the bathtub was a pale, slim brunette, her brown eyes open but unseeing. Her throat had been slit by a professional.

“It wasn’t her,” Ivan said gruffly. “I thought I had got lucky. I picked her up outside a gas station when I went to fill the tank. She was trying to hitchhike. I thought she was trying to get away.

Apparently, she’s just some tourist who fought with her boyfriend.

Bah, it looked like her.”

Alexei swallowed but tried to contain his nausea. It was one thing to kill other thugs, but this was different. He’d killed rival mob members who were out to kill him. This was flat-out murder, and he’d had a hand in it.

“We need to get rid of her before the cleaning crew comes in the morning,” Ivan said as he reached for a cigarette. He lit it quickly and seemed completely at ease as he looked down at his handiwork.

Alexei had to give him credit. Ivan was a professional. There wasn’t a drop of blood outside the tub. The woman’s body was small and fit into the tiny, utilitarian tub neatly. They could wash away the blood. They couldn’t wash away the body.

“Come, my friend, don’t look so down,” Ivan said, stretching.

“We’ll get rid of this one and start again tomorrow. She’s out there.

We’ll find her. Don’t worry.”

Ivan walked out of the bathroom, mumbling something about a tarp. Alexei was left with a girl who couldn’t be more than twenty-five. She was about the same age that Mikhail had been when a gangster had murdered him and left his body in the river. He didn’t know her name. His heart ached because someone out there would miss her.

And he knew how that felt.

* * *

Sunlight filtered into Jen’s room. She could feel it on her face, but she wasn’t ready to open her eyes yet. She wanted to stay in that amazing dream she was having, the one where Stef didn’t fight her anymore, where he understood she was different and they would be okay.

Unfortunately, that had not been how her evening had ended. She took a deep breath and shifted, her mind playing out the fiasco that had happened after she’d gotten Stef to make love to her.

It had been utterly ridiculous for him to think for a second that she had a thing for James Glen. The cowboy was hot, but he had nothing on Stef. And Logan was even worse. Logan was still a kid. He was barely…twenty-two. Damn it. Logan was almost her age.

It wasn’t the same, she argued mentally. Logan still lived at home, and Jen had been on her own most of her life. Her mom had loved her, but she wasn’t exactly a “dinner on the table at six” mom. Jen had learned to take care of herself at a young age. She was surely more mature than Logan.

Now Zane Hollister and the rest of Bliss—she was questioning their maturity. Who stood outside a locked door and listened in on two people making passionate, beautiful love? Who cheered when the door came open?

Of course, the proper way to handle such an awkward situation was to be brazen through it. Jen would have just taken a bow, but Stef had to play the caveman. Stef, who had public sex in BDSM clubs, if the stories were correct. Stefan Talbot, Mr. Dark and Brooding Sexuality himself, had turned a bright red. He’d hauled her up into his arms and growled at anyone who got in his way. He’d had a few choice words to say, and then they’d been off. He’d shoved her on the back of the snowmobile and told her to hold on.

Then he’d dumped her in her room.

So much for making love.

She wasn’t giving up, though, she promised herself as she tried to pull the covers up. After talking to Callie, she was more certain than ever that Stef just needed a little push. Of course, she’d thought that was what she’d given him when she’d leaned over Zane’s desk and let him use that ruler on her ass. She could still feel it. It had hurt, but there was something erotic about the pain.

There was nothing erotic about the chill, though. She tugged, but the blanket wouldn’t move. Jen sat up, and her heart melted, the chill of the morning gone the instant she saw the man who had fallen asleep at the foot of her bed.

“Stef?”

He came up so fast he started to roll off the bed. His body hit the hardwood floor, and he cursed. His hand came up to hold his head.

Jen held the covers back. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.

He still had to be cold. Though she expected a fight, he immediately crawled under the covers.

“Stay on your side, but open your legs,” he demanded in a husky voice.

The morning was looking up. Jen hauled one leg up slightly to give his hands entry. She screamed when it wasn’t his hand he put there.

Stef’s ice-cold feet found a place between her nice warm thighs.

“Please, Jennifer. I’m so cold.”

Jen growled but lowered her leg, making a nest for his cold feet.

She shivered, but Stef sighed with pleasure. He huddled close to her, his body at a silly angle so he didn’t have to move his feet.

“I hate being cold.”

“Hello, maybe you shouldn’t live nine thousand feet above sea level.” Jen felt her teeth chatter as his ridiculously cold hands settled on her waist.

“I was born in Texas. Heat is in my blood, but I got to Bliss as fast as I could,” he said.

She was still cold, but the idea that her body heat was warming him gave her such pleasure she didn’t complain. “Why didn’t you just hop into bed with me? It’s warm under the covers.” His mouth turned down. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You just meant to come in and stare at me while I slept? That’s very creepy of you, Stef,” Jen said, softening it with a smile. He was weird and intense. She was cool with it. It was just who he was. He could stare at a canvas for hours before he even opened a tube of paint. She remembered one afternoon where he’d stared at that blank sheet, and she’d stared at him, the hours rolling by as they were both lost in their own worlds.

“I’m not usually so weird,” Stef said, his voice calm, but she heard the gravity in it.

“Really?” Jen couldn’t help the sarcasm. He was absolutely the weirdest person she knew, and that was saying something. “Let’s see, one, you’re an artist, and a really well-known one. That’s strike one.

Artists are weird. Two, you’re a Dom. You like to spank girls and tie them up, and there are things in that guesthouse that I don’t even know what they’re used for.”

His feet rubbed against her skin. “When did you go to the guesthouse?”

“Callie took me. I was curious. She even showed me where the peepholes and the hiding spots are. Per—vert. As for your third strike, you live in Bliss. You’re out. Just own up to it.”

“I never claimed I was normal, Jennifer,” Stef replied. “But then, anyone who claims to be normal is probably lying or miserable because they don’t know their own natures. Humans are freaks. It’s better we accept it. Are you going to deny that you liked your spanking last night?”

A warm rush of arousal poured over her. “Not on your life. Don’t misunderstand me, babe. I love every freaky inch of you. You might be a complete perv, but I wouldn’t have you any other way. If it makes you happy to sleep at the end of my bed like some crazy stalker, then I’m fine with it, but you could have crawled in with me.” He pulled his feet away, and suddenly his hands cupped her face, and his eyes were a serious, stormy gray. “This is a bad idea, but I don’t think I can stay away from you.” Finally, some progress. She snuggled close and was perfectly happy when his arms crept around her. “I don’t want you to. I never wanted you to.”

“You might after you figure out what I want,” he murmured. His hand stroked her hair as he spoke. “I want to train you. I want a Master/sub relationship. It’s all I can do, Jennifer. For the time it takes to clear up everything, I think we should play together. I’ll understand if you don’t want that. I think we’ll end up in bed either way.” She didn’t want to stay out of bed. And he was fooling himself if he thought all he wanted was a D/s relationship. “I’ve read up on BDSM. I might be a novice, but I know a little something.” His hands were creeping up the tank top she was wearing. “Are you sure? I can be a bit demanding when it comes to play.” He was already demanding. He already pushed and pulled her this way and that, and she wasn’t even getting regular sex for it. “I think I can handle you.”

“So young. So naïve.”

So full of shit. “Bring it on, Talbot.” Something hard flinted across his face. “Fine. Show me your breasts.”

Jen threw the covers off and had that tank top over her head in a heartbeat. The room was still chilly, but the cold wasn’t what had her nipples puckering. She was finally in bed with Stef, and she hadn’t had to force him there.

“And your pussy.”

She pushed the pajama bottoms she had on off, along with the bikini panties she was wearing.

“Spread your legs.”

His voice had lowered a couple of octaves, and it poured over her skin like thick, rich honey. She complied, though it felt awkward. Stef sat up and looked down at her. He didn’t say a thing, just sat there.

His stormy eyes took in every inch of her skin. Jen wondered if she should put on a show, but thought better of it. He was staring at her the way he looked at a piece of art. Just his eyes on her was making her skin heat up.

Why this man? Jen asked herself as she lay still under his considering gaze. Life would be so much easier if she could love someone simple. Stef was beyond complex. He was outrageous, kinky, sexy as hell, and the most loyal man she’d ever met. He’d helped out just about everyone in Bliss. Everyone knew he was the world’s worst sucker for a hard luck story. Didn’t have health insurance? See Stef. He’d pay for your medical bills. When drought had threatened the local ranchers, they didn’t go to the bank, they came to Stef Talbot. When Zane and Callie and Nate needed a loan to start their tavern, they had gone straight to Stef. He really was the king of Bliss, but sometimes he held himself apart. He needed to know that the people he helped loved him, too. Jen was pretty sure he never thought about that.

While Stef stared at her, his eyes fastening on her pussy, she stared back at him. He was a work of art. His jaw was a strong line.

She would use a single, thick brushstroke to capture its stony grace.

His skin was smooth and sun-kissed, gold and tan, blended with cream. His hair was longer than usual, falling just over his eyes in midnight locks. And his eyes. She’d always loved his eyes. They were ever changing with his mood. They went from flint gray when he was angry to a warm, almost misty tone when he softened. When he was aroused, there was a storm in those eyes that always pulled her in.

Her whole body flushed with desire, and he hadn’t touched her yet.

A slow smile creased his perfect face. “Very good, Jennifer. Now get dressed. I want to show you something.” Jen sat up. “What?”

He gracefully rose and stretched his long limbs. “I said get dressed. My father is running around here. I don’t want him to see you naked. He already thinks you’re a felon.” Jen felt her eyes narrow. “I don’t really care what your dad thinks.

What game are you playing that you think you can get me all hot and bothered and then leave me this way?” A low growl came out of his throat, and suddenly his body was pressed to hers. His weight held her down, and the menace in his face did all kinds of things to her heart rate. “I am not playing a game. I am the Master, and you are the sub. That means you do what I tell you to do when it comes to sex, love. I know I can’t expect you to listen to me when it comes to anything else, but I am the Master in this room.